| 24 april 2001 the review! this one's important, i think. yep, definitely important. | along the hudson Sometimes when I'm travelling, it's hard to know what to tell people. Particularly when I'm in New York, where I walk around in a state of constant sensory overload. For the past few days, we've eaten loads of good food, seen, heard, smelled and been pushed along the massive tide of humanity that is a New York City subway car. And I will tell you about some of that stuff, in time. But yesterday, we just visited. Noel, the girlfriend with whom I'm staying, and I strolled up to Hell's Kitchen to visit a dear friend of hers, Wyatt. She thought it would be a swell afternoon, namely because Wyatt is from Indiana, too. And a big city afternoon in the company of two big, sturdy, honest Hoosiers is always good for a giggle. Wyatt has lived in the same apartment for fifteen years. It's a third-story walkup in a building that is at least 125 years old. Upon arriving there, I'm all "nice to meet you. Where's the potty." Wyatt points behind me (I am standing in the hallway). "Right there," he says. Uh? Right there, in that little hallway closet behind me. If I want a quick bath, I can just jump into the kitchen bathtub, where (in a practical move?) he removed the stove and placed it under his bed to make more room. As my Mom would politely say, "of course". So we stroll further into the bachelor pad of the millennium. I sense that am in the home of someone who is simply too industrious to be keeping up with the Joneses. (Wyatt is an accomplished photographer, as I found when I sat in a most comfy Kim's-backside-sized chair to look at his portfolio.) He has two paintings on the wall, the larger of which has a definite "beer" and "the good life" theme. His television and VCR are precariously placed on a footstool across the room, like a piece of contemporary performance art. Study in tentative, fleeting moments . I periodically wondered if we should go out and buy him a little table so that his telephone wouldn't melt onto the radiator. Wyatt also had some friends and their two small sons visiting. It was a beautiful day yesterday, so we took Joe and Calvin to the nearby park. Calvin was moderately impressed on the way there with all the helicopters, Newark-bound incoming jets, and the occasional horse-drawn tourist buggy. It was a noisy walk, and he was good to let it just kind of wash over him. Once we arrived at the park, we turned the two boys loose to climb on some rocks, and finally settled on a small area where we could keep a close eye on them. Joe, who is about two years old, sat square onto the concrete stairs, squealing and clapping. I looked up to see if it was a news or police helicopter this time. No helicopter. I peered around to see where the horse was. No horse. Then Joe looked up at us and squealed, "Ants! Ants!" Sure enough, there were a bunch of most industrious ants along the iron grating which enclosed the daffodils and tulips. He was mesmerized, as was Calvin. We, too became interested. Lots of people live here. Yesterday, five of us had a moment of feeling very much alive. |
